That evening, Gunther asked Siegfried and Chriemhild if they were still of the same mind as before, and, finding that they were, announced that he would make preparations for a double wedding on the following day. Brunhild sat at the feast that evening by Gunther’s side, pale and cold as marble, while Chriemhild sat smiling and whispering between her mother and her lover. “King of Burgundy,” said Brunhild, at last, “I cannot understand why you give your sister in marriage to one of your vassals. She ought to be the wife of a great king.” “Say not so,” answered Gunther; “Siegfried is as much a king as I am. He is king of the Nibelungs, and, after the death of his father Sigmund, the whole Netherlands will belong to him.” “It is a strange story,” she said; “he told me himself that he was your man.” “I will explain it all to you another time,” replied Gunther; “we’ll say no more about it just now.” The double wedding took place next day. When the ceremony was over, the old queen showed her daughter-in-law all her possessions, and gave up to her all authority in the house. “Ah, mother Ute,” said the young wife, “the Burgundians are rich in wealth and great in power; but they are poor in wisdom and weak in action, otherwise King Gunther never would have come to Isenland.” Without waiting for an answer, she turned and left the room. The feast was at an end, twilight had long fallen, and the guests all sought their beds. Gunther and his queen went to their private apartments. When he would have followed her into her room, she barred the way, saying,— “This is no place for you; you can find a more fitting room elsewhere in the palace. If I permitted you to enter, I should lose my great strength.” At first he tried entreaties, then threats, and lastly force. They wrestled together, but she very soon mastered him, bound him hand and foot, and left him lying outside the door. He did not sleep much that night. Next morning, before the household was stirring, the proud queen loosed her husband’s bonds, desired him to hold his peace, and to respect her will in future. Gunther was sad at heart the whole day long; he looked at his wife with a feeling that was almost horror, and often left the feast to walk alone in the garden. Siegfried met him there, and asked what ailed him. When he heard the strange story, he cried: “Be comforted, dear comrade; we have conquered this proud woman before, and I think we shall get the better of her again. I will follow you to-night, hidden under my cap of darkness, when you take the queen to her room. Blow out the candles and let me take your place. Then she shall have an opportunity of trying her great strength against me.” “Ah, good comrade,” said Gunther, “I fear for your life. We did ill to bring her from Isenland to the sunny banks of the Rhine. She is a demon, as Hagen says, and has her marvellous strength from her friends the devils.”